Quotes Crows Novels & Stories

Do not think about silver wolves or archive letters or the map folded in the lining of my winter coat. I was not successfully doing any of that last part, but the attempt had a certain dignity. I was sitting at the narrow desk by the window when the crow landed on the sill. It was a large bird. Glossy black, with the particular intelligent stillness of crows that know exactly where they are and have decided it suits them. It looked at me with one eye. Then the other. Then it set down the thing it had been carrying in its beak with a small decisive tap against the window ledge and waited.

“But if we both have egos, there’s still one big difference between us.” His eyes narrow, waiting. “I have the power to back mine up.” By my command, a crow lands on a nearby window. It taps the glass with its beak and caws, letting us know it’s there. Then another perches beside it, its eyes locked on Rowan. Roawn’s mouth twitches. “Your day will come.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “One day, everyone will see you for what you are.” “Oh? And what is that?”

“Who was it?” Isla asked, her voice sharp with panic as she stood just inside the motel room, her pulse still racing from the knock. Chad didn’t answer immediately. He was standing in the doorway, staring down at the ground like something had rooted him there. “Chad?” “There’s a crow out here,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, tighter. “Dead. And there’s something tied around its leg.” Isla went cold. “What the fuck?”

Julia had a similar mark. "How did you get that?" asked Emma. "Get what?" "Those marks near your elbow." "Oh, I finally got a pet. He pecked me," replied Nancy. "That's quite deep. You might get an infection. Where is your pet?" "Don't get him down here. Her pet is a freaking scary crow," said Mr Smith. "You are keeping a crow as a pet! Eww!" "Hey, that's not a nice thing to say. Every animal and bird has its own beauty."

The windows shattered with a deafening crash, glass spraying everywhere. Elena hit the floor before her brain caught up. Marco was already moving, gun drawn, phone pressed to his ear. He barked orders in Italian while bullets tore through the walls above her head. Elena froze for a moment, remembering her father’s body sitting just three feet away in that office. She realized she could be next.

"Harriet, didn't you mention on YouTube how much you love oat milk?" I waited ten minutes before slipping away to the restroom, where I dumped the coffee into the trash and made a call. "Hello, is this the Marshall family's security? This is Harriet Harlow speaking. "I'm at Camford University's Tech Museum, and Bennett's here. He's been using the tech meet-up to creep on the ladies and spill family secrets." Within five minutes, a pair of the family's enforcers showed up at the entrance. Bennett was deep in conversation with Sophia, his hand casually draped over her chair, nearly hugging her from behind.

“If I find her, could she make all of the dragon spirits come back?” Just as Eros hesitated to answer, a loud noise disturbed them. A large crow had landed on the floor of the chamber and overturned a potted cactus, as if on purpose. Another crow flew in, then another, until at least a dozen black crows had flooded in through the open window. Dagen barged back into the chamber and announced with dreadful urgency, “We’ve got a problem.” “What happened?” Eros rounded the table and exited to the open yard, Thorn followed the both of them out.

On top of that, he felt like the crow was spilling something important the way it didn’t shut its beak as he descended from the sky. “Oh shit. Really?” Shadow sounded bewildered. Her mouth hung wide as her eyes widened big. CAAAAAWWWW! The crow perched on the Shadow’s shoulder. Then, Samuel saw that the shocked face easily calmed down after the next scream of the crow. “Fair point. I still need to avenge my people, though.” CAAWW! At the peripheral vision of Samuel, he spotted the reaction of the crow. It was rolling its eyes while talking to Shadow. “I’m different,” Shadow started to argue as if she understood the crow.

Warm radiance had filled her, whether from the soft vibrating or not she couldn’t tell. Then something—the girl’s glare, or something in the murky woodland beyond the lighted window maybe—caused the mocking crow to squawk in panic. Its gloss-black wings flared and it defecated and launched itself from the ledge. Mouth agape, it hit an ivy-covered tree in its rush and dashed the brains out of its sleek-shaped skull before tumbling dead into the brambles below.